


If it Please the Queen

by Kylenne



Series: This Warden's Work [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Female Character of Color, Female-Centric, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, Multi, Polyamory, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/pseuds/Kylenne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Mage-Templar War raging across Thedas, Cassandra Pentaghast requests an audience with the Heroine of Ferelden--now its Queen--in search of her aid. What the Seeker finds, however, is not necessarily what she was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If it Please the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> My post-Origins canon diverges substantially from what is possible in the game canon, and this fic is a good introduction to my 'verse.

"Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine, your Majesty."

She stepped into the chamber after being announced by the herald—more of a slow march, really—and swept into a stiff-backed bow before the foot of the bed. Gisele noted the severity of her features: a strong jaw that seemed as if it were perpetually clinched, stiff upright posture that emphasized her towering height, every movement tightly controlled. Not a warrior, but a knight, a true daughter of the Chantry. Attractive, a handsome woman no doubt, but severe.

Precisely what Gisele would have expected.

"So, lady Seeker," Gisele said, drawing herself up against the veritable mountain of pillows she was propped against, "what is possibly so urgent that it requires disturbing me in such condition? Has Justinia finally released the hounds after all these long years, as it were? What manner of ill portent do you bring a bedridden woman with child?"

"Your Majesty, I assure you that I would not be here were the need not great," Cassandra said stiffly. "It is not my intent to make things difficult for you, nor that of Most Holy."

"Oh, that’s a  _start_ , messere. I believe you may be the very first stooge from Val Royeaux to address me with the respect befitting a queen. You have my attention—for now.”

Cassandra’s jaw clenched that much tighter, and Gisele took a great deal of pleasure in it, regardless of how petty it was of her to do so. Gisele would take little victories against the Chantry wherever she could, no matter how petty they were.

"Thank you, your Majesty," Cassandra said archly, with not the slightest bit of gratitude to her tone. "As you’ve no doubt realized, events across Thedas are spiraling out of control."

"I’ve noticed that, yes," Gisele said. She primly smoothed out the rich velvet duvet covering her enormous belly in an almost bored fashion, and glanced at the Seeker.

Cassandra’s nostrils flared ever so slightly at Gisele’s idle manner and sarcastic tone, but she quickly swallowed down her irritation. “The Divine has called a Conclave,” she said. “A peace summit at the Temple of Sacred Ashes between the rebel mages and templars, in the hope of at least achieving a ceasefire in the hostilities.”

"I’m well aware of this summit," Gisele said. "Given that Haven is in my territory. But even were my condition such that I could attend, I will not. Knight-Commander Bryant and Knight-Enchanter Merlose will be present as representatives of Kinloch Hold and First Enchanter Amell. That will suffice. The crown has no interest in what is an internal Chantry matter. We maintain our neutrality in this matter, as we always have."

Stone-faced, Gisele saw Cassandra’s knuckles turning white at her sides. The Seeker’s glare was scarcely contained when she responded. “Your ‘neutrality’ leaves much to be questioned, your Majesty. You harbor Kirkwall’s First Enchanter, and feign neutrality?” Cassandra scoffed. “The Champion’s own brother and sister who fought at the Gallows dwell within your order’s fortress, within your own domain, and still you feign neutrality?”

"I granted asylum to a man whose only crime was doing what  _your_  Chantry demanded of him—placing the welfare of his charges above all else, even his own life or position,” Gisele shot back. “A position he had no possible hope to be effective in, where he was undermined and marginalized at every possible turn. Or do you believe it was an accident that an elf was appointed First Enchanter at the most notoriously repressive Circle in Thedas? What value is there given to an advocate whose charges are denied their basic personhood? Orsino was never intended to be anything more than a figurehead and a patsy. Of course I granted him asylum. He’s a gifted mage and administrator whose talents were never valued by the Circle of Magi, and I will not fault him for doing what any decent person of principle would have done in his shoes, nor will I fault him for the sins of a man who was once under my own command. Unless you plan to indict the Wardens for what happened to the Grand Cleric Elthina.”

"Of course not, your Majesty," Cassandra said, her glare not ceasing in the least.

"As for the matter of Bethany and Carver Hawke," Gisele continued, unabated, "the Fereldan Wardens have need of them, so here is where they serve. Lodge a complaint with Weisshaupt if it so troubles you. But it was not my understanding that the Chantry has jurisdiction regarding the internal affairs of the Grey Wardens."

"And it was not  _my_  understanding that the Grey Wardens involve themselves in politics outside the Anderfels. It was my understanding that your order remains neutral in these matters, and yet you rule an arling and the kingdom as Warden-Commander. Forgive my boldness, your Majesty, but you have a strange definition of neutrality in Ferelden,” Cassandra said archly. “I did not realize it was synonymous with hypocrisy.”

"It most certainly  _is not_  forgiven, Seeker Pentaghast,” Gisele said coldly, even as her blood ran hot with imperious fury. “I will not be challenged in my own bedchamber, in my own palace, accused of hypocrisy by a thug in a priest’s frock—” she caught herself then and paused, shutting her eyes to take a deep breath, and regain her composure. It would avail nothing to lose herself in the presence of this woman.

She continued after a moment, even-toned and level-headed. “Yes, Orsino is my advisor. Yes, I know that Bethany and Carver Hawke fought at the Gallows, because my husband Zevran was there too, Cassandra, fighting a Knight-Commander gone mad alongside them and the Champion. Even Viscount Saemus attests to the corruption within the Chantry in Kirkwall. My sources inform me a Mother made several attempts on his life, for the simple crime of having a qunari paramour. You must forgive me for a certain amount of skepticism regarding your intentions here. Particularly after what transpired in Dairsmuid. I have been branded an usurping maleficar manipulating a kingdom of heretics by the fanatics within your ranks for ten years. To have a Seeker demand an audience with me while I am with child and at my most vulnerable is not a comforting thought.”

For the first time Gisele could note throughout their whole bitter exchange, Cassandra’s dark eyes softened. It was slight, but noticeable, and it came as a surprise to her. “I sympathize with your position more than you might believe, your Majesty,” she said.

Gisele sighed, grimacing as a fresh wave of pain spiked sharply through her, and she awkwardly shifted against the pillows, sinking deeper into them, and shut her eyes against the sensation of lightheadedness that followed. “With all due respect, messere, those are rather empty words. I have spent ten long years existing in a state of precarious anticipation and dread. Were I to be entirely candid, I have existed in a such a state from the moment of my birth into crushing poverty in a slum humans like you will never care about. Always waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, that has what has defined my life to this point—and this is no different, but for the weight of a nation on my shoulders, and the fear of yet more innocent blood on my hands should the worst come to pass. And I am an elf, the only elf in all Thedas to sit a throne! You cannot fathom my position, Cassandra. How can you possibly sympathize with it?”

"Despite what you may believe, I do not come here as your enemy, your Majesty," Cassandra said softly. "Most Holy has never seen you as such. If she has not made this openly clear, please understand that it is not for lack of sincerity. Her hands are tied, in many ways, by tradition. She supported your reforms."

"But not my marriage," Gisele retorted, unable to hold back years of bitterness from creeping into her quivering voice. "Not my right to be wife to my beloved king, a man I love more than anything in this world, not even after I slew an Archdemon and saved you all from the horrors of a Blight half of you scarce recognize as one. And not my country’s right to determine what the Chant means for them, here and now, in the Dragon Age. Ferelden may have an Orlesian queen, but one born in  _her_  capital, and her people are quite finished with Orlesian masters, whether they sit the Lion’s Throne or the Sunburst. We so-called dog lords are stubborn as mabari, lady Seeker. You’d do well to understand that.”

Cassandra sighed deeply, clasping her hands behind her back, shaking her head in open frustration, something that also came as quite unexpected to Gisele; what did such a display mean for a woman who clearly lived her life intimidating her Divine’s enemies into compliance? Was it frustration, perhaps, that Gisele would not be cowed as easily as she may have believed?

"May I be candid, your Majesty?" Cassandra asked at last. Gisele nodded.

"Of course," Gisele replied.

Cassandra paced at the foot of the enormous bed, her brow furrowed in thought, before glancing up at the queen with a questioning look in her eyes. Gisele beckoned to her, and Cassandra moved to her bedside. “Most Holy understands that she has perhaps not done a great deal to earn your trust, your Majesty. But that is why she feels bolder action is necessary, now. After much prayer and deliberation, she has tasked me with reviving the Inquisition, for the purpose of ending this bitter conflict. It is her hope that you and the Lady Hawke can work together with me to find a solution and stem the bloodshed.”

“ _The Inquisition_?” Gisele gasped. That was a name out of the histories of the Circle that she never believed would be spoken aloud once more—for good reason. She remembered well the stories of sudden disappearances, of executions without trial, of desperate people turning to the only people who promised to restore order in a world gone mad only to fall under the yoke of tyrants. Gisele also remembered well that it was the remnants of that order which became the Seekers of Truth, whose tabard Cassandra wore with pride. “Are you mad, serah? Mages rebelled against the Chantry in the wake of horrific abuses, and your response is to revive the tyrannical institution which planted the very seeds for this discontent?” Gisele asked.

"We live in desperate times, your Majesty," Cassandra said. "And desperate measures are required in such times. I recall a Grey Warden who took desperate measures to save a kingdom from a Blight, including conscripting the man who betrayed her order."

 _And now I bear his child,_  Gisele thought to herself, chuckling internally at the irony that never failed to escape her if she dwelled upon it for too long. Still, for all the superficial parallels they shared, this was an entirely different situation, and what Justinia wanted was a step too far. Cassandra had to realize that, Gisele would make her if she could not. “There are desperate measures, and then there is what you are proposing. And what, precisely, do you wish of me with regard to this Inquisition?”

Cassandra sunk to one knee. “I ask you, Queen Gisele, on behalf of Most Holy Divine Justinia V, to lead the Inquisition. Despite any disagreements and wrongs of the past, she recognizes that you are a heroine to the people. Not merely in Ferelden, but in all Thedas. The mages look to you as their great hope—when the Circles rose up, it was your name they chanted in defiance, the mage who saved Ferelden, won the heart of a prince, and freed her people. And not all templars view you as a maleficar, there are many who see that you did not disband the order here and throw them out with the chamberpots.”

"I have bled and nearly died for Ferelden, several times over," Gisele said. "I shall do it again, if asked. I love this land with all my heart. But it is Ferelden I must think of—and I see nothing to be gained here for my people, by championing the Divine’s cause."

"You may yet buy Ferelden room to breathe," Cassandra said. "The Divine has never wished to cow Ferelden into line. She could have ten years ago, when Kinloch Hold left the Circle, or when the Princess Consort refused to become her Left Hand."

"Is that a threat, lady Seeker?" Gisele primly raised an eyebrow. "Justinia is hardly in a position to issue them at the moment, given the current chaos, and I cannot believe she would be so petty as to call an Exalted March on my kingdom because my wife would not enter her service, even if she could."

"I would not presume, your Majesty," Cassandra replied quickly. "And neither would Most Holy. I was not bearing falsehoods when I said I did not come here as your enemy. What you have built here is a model of peace for the rest of us to follow, a templar king and a mage queen ruling side by side. I would not seek to destroy that, not now when it is the only ray of hope to be found. You did this, your Majesty. And they will listen. I only mean to say that Kinloch Hold will not stay above the fray for much longer, surely you can see that? These rogue templars view it as a stain in the eyes of the Maker. Regardless, if anyone can stop this madness, the Divine believes it is you. This is not simply the Divine’s cause, it is a cause for all Thedas. Surely you must understand."

Gisele stared down at her, this proud and strong woman on bended knee with scarcely hidden desperation etched into her features, and understood it then, truly, why she had come here. Cassandra was a Seeker, a servant of order, a person who took comfort in stability and predictability, who lived her life according to a code and a way of life that was under serious threat for the first time since its inception. This desperation was born of a need to simply restore the only way she had ever known.

She pitied her, then.

"I have fought too bitterly and for too long to see Kinloch Hold safe and prosperous, a sanctuary of learning, to expose it to any further potential danger. Or to endanger the ordinary citizens of this land, who cannot be placed in the center of a conflict that will destroy them. I  _must_  think first of my own people, Seeker,” Gisele said. “I’m afraid the answer is still no.”

Cassandra’s eyes were crestfallen, but she rose to her feet tall and proud nonetheless, and Gisele’s pity for her turned to admiration despite everything. If nothing else, Justinia was fortunate to count such a woman as her right hand. “You are certain?” Cassandra asked.

Gisele nodded sadly, struck then by a strange pang of guilt. “Yes, I am certain.”

"And you are certain you know nothing of the whereabouts of Marisol Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall?" Cassandra asked.

"I am certain," Gisele said, and lying to her was not something she felt terribly proud of, in that moment.

"Very well, your Majesty. I will not trouble you further. I pray that you have a strong and healthy child and the birthing goes well," Cassandra said. "And I pray that the Maker will have mercy on us all in these troubled times."

"As do I," Gisele said politely. "I thank you for your well wishes, and I pray the Conclave is a successful one despite my absence. Do not doubt that I wish the Divine well in this endeavor, despite my reticence to take a role in it. As you said, this is a cause for all Thedas."

Cassandra bowed a final time. “Goodbye, Queen Gisele.”

* * *

 

Gisele descended the stairs of the fortress with her skirts gripped daintily in her hands, and strode with purpose across the grounds toward the small practice area where the Seeker could most always be found honing her swordcraft against the target dummies. It was early yet, the first steely light of dawn only beginning to peek through the clouds, and Cassandra was the only one around. Gisele almost rued interrupting her morning exercises, and for a moment simply stood there watching her methodically working her way through the Seeker sword forms. She lunged and parried, pivoting and sweeping clean, fluid arcs against the targets with an effortless grace that stole Gisele’s breath away as surely as the heights to which the castle rested in the mountains. She was poetry in motion, a sight to behold.

There was always something about a knight, Gisele thought to herself with a smile.

Cassandra, however, was nothing if not a consummate warrior, with a warrior’s instincts, and knew that she was being watched, much to Gisele’s disappointment. The seeker turned then, sheathing her blade, and wiped the sweat from her golden brow with a sweep of her arm.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra greeted her somewhat brusquely, barely winded, though flushed from exertion. "Good morning. Is there something you require of me?"

Gisele grasped her fur-trimmed cloak tightly against her, in the thin chill of the mountain breeze. “No, actually. I believe there is something you require of me.”

Cassandra tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in momentary confusion. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

"I believe I owe you an apology," Gisele confessed. "For when you came to Denerim."

Cassandra must have noticed her trembling against the cold, because she beckoned her then toward the comfort of her nearby quarters, spartan though they were. Gisele gladly followed her inside, and sat at the table while Cassandra set the kettle on the merrily burning fire, and relaxed as the warmth of the indoors began to seep into her bones.

"You don’t owe me anything, my lady," Cassandra said. "I realize I was not the most cordial at the time, accosting an expectant mother in such a manner. My timing was ill-advised, with your spouses absent from the city. And I am not accustomed to addressing royalty." She made a self-deprecating face, scrunching her nose as she reached for an earthen cup on the shelf. "There is a reason Josephine and Leliana handle the diplomacy." 

Gisele laughed softly at her. “But aren’t you royalty yourself, Cassandra? Twelfth cousin to the King of Nevarra, wasn’t it?”

"Ugh." The disgusted scoff that came from Cassandra’s throat set Gisele to laughing a bit harder, and she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggles.

"Well, at any rate, whether or not you believe it’s owed you, I would still like to apologize," Gisele said, once the amusement passed. "Because you were right, after all. I mean, I’m here  _now_ , aren’t I? But I was being stubborn, as I am often inclined to do.”

Cassandra gave her a sly, slight grin, as she poured a steaming cup and handed it to a grateful Gisele. “It’s no trouble. We are of like mind, I think. More than I would have thought. Perhaps that is why we clashed so. I met a woman even more stubborn than myself and was caught off my guard.”

It was earthy spice, hints of cinnamon and clove, the scent wafting through the air when she held the small cup aloft, warming her hands while letting it cool enough to sip. A Rivaini recipe, Gisele thought. It must have been Khedira or Ashé who made it. It smelled a bit strong, but Gisele preferred her tea that way. She glanced at Cassandra across the table, who sat to join her with her own cup in hand, staring down in it. “Is something wrong, Cassandra?”

"It’s nothing," she replied, and blew gently into her tea. "I just want to know why you changed your mind. I know the circumstances are different now, that the threat is larger. But is that truly the only thing that swayed you?"

"I was afraid," Gisele admitted. "You were right about Kinloch Hold’s inability to remain neutral, and I believe now that deep down I realized it, but I was too afraid to admit it. The implications were too horrifying, I suppose. And the danger too real for a woman about to have another child. But there comes a time when one can no longer permit fear to determine their actions. Perhaps Redcliffe paid the price for my foolishness, yet again."

"No one blames you for that," Cassandra chided her gently. "Khedira doesn’t, and neither do I."

"I know. But it is my own ledger that grows longer by the year," Gisele said with a sigh. "Anyway, I am here, where I should have been all along. And if my presence here as Queen of Ferelden and the Warden-Commander who ended the Fifth Blight gives the Inquisition the legitimacy and the moral authority it needs to better carry out this mission, so be it. I will not let Khedira walk alone, as I did, shouldering the burden of that cursed mark." Gisele took a sip from her tea, and smiled warmly at Cassandra. "You got your way in the end though, didn’t you, Seeker? I am here, and I am your Inquisitor. As is Marisol. You even got a third in Khedira, most unexpectedly. Is that not what matters?"

"I suppose you are right," Cassandra replied. "It won’t do to fixate on the past. We were all short-sighted in our own ways and we all made our mistakes." Shades of crimson crept into her cheeks. "You were…formidable. I was flustered. I am not accustomed to that, either, I suppose."

Gisele pursed her rouged lips into a coy smile. “Is that so?” she asked sweetly, with a quirk of a single silver eyebrow.

She was sure the woman burned her tongue, so quickly she drank from the scalding cup.

All things considered, there were far worse places for Gisele to be than Skyhold.


End file.
